Among the data I took from Foxgames’ bunker were the internet records of Kang Han-min and Jeon Si-hoon.

Both of them had used the same sites, but their activity was as different as animals from the northern and southern hemispheres.

Kang Han-min had no favorite subject.

He just hopped from one busy board to another, and when a board started to fade, he immediately moved on—filling the new space with half-baked posts he’d either thought up himself or copied from somewhere else.

Most of his records from the “Savior” era were deleted, but I still remember the kind of thread titles he used to make:

Kang Han-nam: Bro, that’s where you’re supposed to piss.jpg

Kang Han-nam: Latest Japanese ramen situation.jpg

Kang Han-nam: Bone Haejang-guk VS Sundae-guk showdown.showdown

Kang Han-nam: Understanding the boss.jpg

...

...

Funny, entertaining on the surface—but look at them as a whole, and there’s a chill that creeps in.

There’s nothing of Kang Han-min himself in them. No thoughts, no soul, no emotion.

That ties into how he never attached himself to any one community. He only wanted attention—lots of it. But never gave himself.

He only ever put forward proxies.

Jeon Si-hoon was different. His records were extensive, and when he rose from Han-min’s shadow to become a national hero, Foxgames dug into them relentlessly.

“Jeon Si-hoon used the same nickname everywhere. He knew better, but he did it on purpose. That’s a generational thing.”

That was Foxgames’ take, left in a voice memo.

“I don’t believe in generational theories—except for the internet. That’s real. It splits right along age lines. Like, younger kids are terrified of being doxxed. They make a new ID for every site, and for anonymous boards like PaleNet, they’ll even use throwaway emails just for one post.”

Foxgames must’ve already sensed his end while recording this, because the coughing fit that broke in sounded like death trying to claw its way out. The memo ended mid-hack and jumped to the next.

“Kh-hmm! Haa... tch! Okay. Where was I? Right. Internet generations. The kids just below them—they’re different. They watch shorts nonstop, brains switched off, and they don’t give a damn about getting exposed. Call them out, and they just say, ‘So what?’ Raised by parents, by society, by the world to think they’re untouchable. Jeon Si-hoon fits that crowd perfectly.”

The records Foxgames uncovered were massive.

Whether they were worth anything was another matter.

If Kang Han-min’s were nothing but an empty shell to harvest attention, Jeon Si-hoon’s were Jeon Si-hoon himself, barely covered by the thin veil of the internet.

Deeply personal.

The early ones were all about his mother—long dead by the time I met him.

One example:

ThisIsIt: These days I’m shocked by my mom.

— She shows me Shorts and laughs. Fine, I get it. But then she says they’re informative. That’s what shocked me.

She keeps feeding me these quick-hit dopamine bursts, like they’re life lessons, but really they’re wrecking her brain. I almost fact-bombed her, but held back.

Nine out of ten of his posts were about himself or people close to him.

Before the war, he even left melodramatic, adolescent entries.

“It wasn’t a lie when I said I’d change next year. In that moment, I really believed I could do something.

I’m sorry.

Back then, I couldn’t imagine the promise would be impossible.

But what if the tomorrow I hoped for was never possible to begin with?

Change isn’t something I can do alone.

The world has to allow it.

So next year, I’ll promise again. I’ll change as much as I can—so long as the world allows it.”

At his core, Jeon Si-hoon ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) wasn’t bad.

When I first saw him, I thought he was the model of an ordinary, decent kid.

Time and thought twisted him.

Now, he sits in the ruins of a pre-war tower.

What he’s doing there, or what he’s planning, I can’t say.

Seoul’s fog grows thicker, its population smaller. How many monsters lurk inside, only God knows.

The warming weather has brought more refugees—including Awakened who call themselves his knights.

Privileged, warped brats causing trouble isn’t much different from how peeled apples brown when they touch air.

They’ve camped between Seoul and Sejong, stirring up constant problems.

Maybe it wasn’t my business. But now that I’d tied a line to Sejong, it had become mine.

I’d faced Jeon Si-hoon’s “knights” once before—back then, I was utterly outclassed, and my only allies were the Defender siblings, the common enemy of everyone else.

Times had changed. Seasons turned. Sejong was now the last human stronghold on the peninsula. And I had a seat, however small, on its deck.

“Do you know how to hunt Awakened? I heard China had a unit for that.”

Nam Ban-jang had asked me for help.

I owed him anyway, so I’d have to repay it sooner or later. And truthfully, after reading Jeon Si-hoon’s old posts, I wanted to meet his so-called knights.

This time not as an underdog, but on equal ground—or better, above them.

I wanted to know what was going on in Jeon Si-hoon’s head.

Maybe he’d turned into a monster already. Maybe it didn’t matter.

But I’d fought Over-Level-10 Awakened before.

Kang Han-min and Jeong Dae-kyung—barely human anymore, yet more human than anyone.

Their bodies were gone, but they still clung to the idea of humanity, feeding their fading souls with the fuel of human emotion.

Knowing how they felt gave me an edge against them.

“......”

For reasons I can’t name, I have the prophecy-like certainty that someday, I’ll have to kill the boy I once saved.

*

The first time is hard. The second comes easier.

Once, as a bunker-obsessed doomsayer, I’d sworn never to reveal its location. But years in the Apocalypse taught me: nothing ensures safety like allies.

For someone like me—always outside, like Mark Two said—alliances weren’t optional. They were mandatory.

Jeon Si-hoon’s knights had holed up in Gyeonggi, extorting refugees and Seoul stragglers, even ambushing Sejong patrols. “Full of madness,” Nam Ban-jang called it.

If they’d been just another armed gang, he and his men—deadly in close combat—would’ve wiped them out.

But their group was a mix of Awakened and Skull Brigade.

That combination, Awakened paired with conventional forces, was something I’d pioneered back when I was called “Captain” in New Seoul. But theirs was born in the Apocalypse’s final stages, with an entirely different ideology.

“They’re tough. We don’t know who the Awakened are, so we can’t risk shooting first. You know how fast an Awakened can throw up a shield.”

Nam Ban-jang had lost good men in those clashes.

Good men aren’t easily replaced. Each one is worth more than they realize.

So he asked for my help. But honestly, I don’t know how to fight Awakened either.

In China, I’d faced one—but it was chance, inconclusive, and taking him down wasn’t even the mission. No doctrine to build from.

Proper anti-Awakened tactics were developed by Chinese hunters.

We Koreans had one talent though: Hong Jeong-ho. Defender.

He’d fought fanatics closer to the Awakened than anyone.

Again and again, he’d had to find ways to kill them.

Now Defender was in hiding with Dies_Irae, with tacit permission to leave. Even Dies_Irae had realized the siblings were too dangerous. They’d quietly nudged him out, not wanting to lose their cherished group.

Someday, when things calmed down, they wanted to gather every one of their old forum “friends.”

Me included.

But since I’d tied myself to Sejong, Dies_Irae wouldn’t bother looking my way. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

I’d reached out to Defender.

“Awakened?”

His voice, calm as always, almost soothing now.

“I’ve fought them. But those knights and the ones I faced are different. Fanatics worship their Awakened—dress them up so you can spot them a mile away.”

His method was efficient, brutal.

Gas.

He’d encircle the fanatics, crush their defenses with shields or armor, then flood them with tear gas—turning the place into a badger’s den—and beat down anyone who stumbled out.

Sometimes an Awakened was among them. Defender admitted that was just luck.

“They hardly train. Some groups might, but the ones I fought didn’t. The serious ones always ran before we closed in. But Seong-hoon—one of my men—he fought a tough one. Took biochemical rounds to bring him down.”

So there were tough Awakened.

Like the so-called Apostle from China. A real killer, trained by nothing but repeated, bloody combat.

Talk of using Awakened in armies had died down fast once the Rift made human wars trivial—but those of us in the field remembered.

If Awakened were ever used in earnest, the threat would be catastrophic.

Even in New Seoul, Lee Haru told me Jeju had Awakened who specialized in killing humans better than monsters.

Monstrous in all but name.

And still, I wanted to meet Jeon Si-hoon’s knights.

To ask how he’d changed so much.

And there was a perfect candidate nearby.

“Name’s Yeom Dda-wan. Half Thai. Mother’s Thai.”

The photo showed a tall, broad-shouldered man, strikingly handsome, thick-browed, sharp-nosed, hair trailing like shadows. A western gene in the mix, no doubt.

“He’s been with Jeon Si-hoon since Jeju. Multiple sources confirm it.”

Nam Ban-jang hunched slightly, wary.

“Extremely dangerous. Cunning. What do you think?”

Could I handle it? Honestly, I didn’t know.

But chances wouldn’t come again. Not now, when fate itself was nothing but ruin.

Grab every chance you get.

“Let’s do it.”

I had the feeling Jeon Si-hoon would cause trouble soon.

That much, I knew.